How I tricked the careers - A hunger games fanfiction
by Tabsthecat
Summary: Years before Katniss was born, in the year of the 34th hunger games, one tribute should have died in the bloodbath. The careers paid them no attention, thinking they were dead. But how did this happen? Read to find out. Sorry, I suck at summaries. Basically a hunger games pov, but this tribute managed to make the best of the bloodbath.
1. Chapter 1

I wake up to see a beam of golden sunlight streaming through my window, illuminating the dust that drifts through the air. Ah, summer sunshine. I know that I have work, but I feel so peaceful here, bathing in this glorious sunlight. Suddenly, a massive weight drops into my stomach as I remember today's date. Reaping day. I unwillingly step out of my bed and wander down the corridor to our kitchen. No one else is up yet so I throw on a top and trousers, grab my working belt and creep out the door.

Not many people are awake. They don't want to confront this date, the date that two of our children between 12 and 18 will be reaped to go into the hunger games. The date that two of our children will leave here forever, only to return about a week later in a plain wooden box. Who knows, it could even be me. Being 18, my name would only be in the reaping bowl 7 times, but like much of district 7, my family have needed me to take out tesserae and so I have 35 slips. It sounds bad, but district 7 is one of the larger districts, and most families are poorer than mine, with more kids each taking out tesserae. Luckily, my brother and sister are both 13, and as of yet, neither of them have had to take out any tesserae. I'm keeping it that way.

After a five minute walk I arrive at the edge of the forest and am over-come by the luxurious scent of pine, willow and mahogany. This scent is the one thing that makes me feel sorry for the people in the Capitol – they will never know this scent. Yeah, this scent means a hard, 10 hour work day throwing around a heavy axe for next to no pay, but when you're at the top of a tree, stretching your aching limbs, looking over the vast area of wood, all the pain recedes and you're left with a beautiful view of a picturesque, natural scene.

I walk into the woods until I find it. My tree. It's a wide, strong oak that looks impossible to climb to anyone that doesn't work in the trees. If you look carefully you can see the small groves in its bark, the stumps along its side. When you get high enough there is a ladder of thick, strong branches. I climb up to my favourite seat and gaze through the fresh leaves into the distance. Eventually though, I pull myself back into reality and slowly begin my climb down. At the bottom my initials are engraved into it. I wonder through the trees until I find a mahogany one. They're very difficult to climb, but worth the most per kilo. I find a willow near it and climb that, until I get high enough, and then I jump through the air, locking my limbs around the first branch I reach. Phew. I begin to use my axe to cut at a big branch, and then a few smaller ones for carving. My axe is lodged into a branch when I see a squirrel in the willow which I had climbed. It sat there, unknowing of my company. I slowly raised my knife and throw it, killing the squirrel instantly. Quickly, I finished what I was cutting and grabbed the squirrel. Technically it's illegal to hunt in these woods, as they belong to the capitol, but there is no-one around today so I take my prize home. It will make a nice stew for after the reaping. I run home and give my squirrel to my mother who begins to skin it. I take one of the small mahogany branches (I can sell the larger ones tomorrow when the market opens again) and begin to carve. I make a wooden spoon – not one of my best, but years of practice means that I can almost do this blindfolded. With some of the scraps I carve a small tree to make into a necklace. I thread it through a piece of broken shoelace and tie it around my neck.

"You better get ready, it's almost time." My mother warns me. I scrub myself clean in some water and find my reaping outfit. It's the same one I wore for the past two years: a pale green shirt, black shorts and a pair of earrings that have been in our family for generations. I also put on my new necklace and a pair of uncomfortable sandals that were my mothers. When I stroll into the kitchen everyone is eating breakfast. My siblings are arguing as usual but, as my mother says, most twins do.

Before I have time to sink my teeth into the delicious fruit that lies out for me, the reaping bell tolls. It's suddenly like someone has wiped a blackboard clean because all of our happy conversations and smiles disappear and are replaced with looks of horror and dread.

"Well, off you go," my dad says, his voice breaking on the last word.

"It's fine, we'll all be back here in an hour. Hey, squirrel stew for tea – your favourite!" I force a smile as I tap my sister on the head.

"Good luck!" my mother calls as we trudge towards the town centre.

Our fingers are pricked, our blood tested. Finally, we walk into our correct age and gender sections, waiting for it to start. Finally our escort Urgius Maddweirdo (or as we call her Ugly Mad-weirdo), teeters up to the stage in her high heels.

"Good morning! What a lovely day for the reaping eh?" she squeals in her stupid capitol voice. "Now, you lucky things, here is a very special film all the way from your capitol!"

We are forced to watch a propaganda film that advertises our lifestyles as brilliant, easy ones.

"Wasn't that just great! Now, the moment you've all been waiting for – the reaping!" Urgius dramatically saunters over to the girls reaping bowl with her usual "Ladies first!"

She slowly plunges into the bowl, dragging the moment out to bring on some suspense for the capitol viewers. Finally she picks a slip and shuffles back to the microphone. She clears her throat. There is silence. "Willow…" she begins, pausing. Ok Willow. That is my name, but it is also one of the most common names in district 7. I try to avoid my sister's worried gaze and watch Urius as her lips form the surname. "Dandilious!" she yells triumphantly. I freeze. No, no this is not happening. The other eighteen year olds make a path for me and give me sympathetic and pitiful glances. That snaps me back into reality. I will not look weak and have people pity me. I stroll out of my section and begin to strut to the stage, head held high.

"No, I volunteer!" shrieks Mandy, my sister. What is she doing? She begins to run to the stage but I beat her and pull her back.

"Go back." I warn her, walking up the wooden steps to the stage. The male tribute is reaped and I'm worried that my brother Oak might be as crazy as my sister and volunteer, but he doesn't. I shake hands with the male tribute, a sixteen year old, and am marched into the justice building…


	2. Chapter 2 - Goodbye

A smooth, velvet chair sits in an empty room. I stroke the cherry red material frantically, my fate sinking in; I am going to die. Well, that wasn't a surprise. Everyone has to do some time, right? But now I have about a week left, I feel worthless; I have done nothing in my life. And I never will do anything. Yes, my family will remember me and maybe my mentor, Charlie Jacks, but that's it.

_Pull yourself together!_ I think and begin to stroke the chair more slowly. My family will be here in a minute. I have to show them what to do.

I let out a few deep, calm breaths and remember the forest this morning. Suddenly the door flies open and Mandy jumps at me. "W-w-will-low!" she sobs, her whole body rocking. I hush her as my parents and Oak come in. I can see the red patches in their eyes and I know that they're trying to stay together for me; this small act of kindness threatens to make my throat swell up into tears.

"Now, it's going to be fine, yeah?" I sniff, wiping my eyes. My mother gives me a hug as my father pats my back, "Yeah, you'll be fine, you'll see. You just come home safely, alright?" my father squeaks.

Oak comes over and hives me a hug. "It's ok, I'll look after them," he whispers silently. At first I nod, but then I realize what he means. "No!" I yell, "Whatever happens, no taking out tesserae! Even if it means working from dawn 'til dusk and overtime too, neither of you are taking out any tesserae. Mandy, you know every type of tree, and Oak, you can find some edible stuff in the woods, right? I don't care if you have to live of grass and bark, just stay safe. You can all do some carving too…" I begin, but sobs start to crush my chest.

"We'll be fine, just focus on getting out alive." Mother instructs.

"Get an axe, knife, anything – just stay alive!" Father advises. I give them a final hug each and say goodbye. My final goodbyes.

I sit in the plush chair for a minute, knowing that no-one else will come to see me. I make my way to the door and try the handle, surprised to find it's unlocked.

_How many people have been here? _I wonder. _How many people have had their last moments in district 7 here, in this grotty old building? How many more to come?_ That really scares me. How many more people will be forced into spending the last moments with their family here?

I think about running away, but they will surely catch me. Or worse – they could force Mandy to enter. So I just wonder to the opposite room where I find our male tribute.

He's tall for 16 – _very_ tall. About half a foot taller than me, and I'm the tallest girl in the school. Chocolate brown hair has been trimmed to a neat crop on his head, and I can tell from this that he is not the poorest in district 7. Not the richest either. On about the same level as me. His empty black eyes scan me just like I am scanning hm. Sizing up each other. It's just starting to get awkward when he puts out his hand "Jeffrey Sherled," he smiles. Each of his perfect, snowy white teeth are shown, and they act like a drug, forcing me to smile back, "Willow Dandelious." We shake hands and he relaxes his pose, slanting against the wall and folding his arms. His muscle coated arms.

"So, this sucks huh?" I ask, brushing a lock of my dark blonde hair behind my ear.

"Tell me about it!" he replies, and I want to smile again. But then I suddenly realize that at least one of us will be dead in a couple of weeks, so I stare at the floor.

"Hey, come on. We all need to have something to joke about, even if it is just to keep away reality." He says softly, tilting my chin up to face him. I pull on a false smile and I know he is right. His hand moves to mine and gently strokes my fingers. Though his hand is rough from working in the woods, it feels smooth and natural to mine. My thumb is just about to stroke his back when a peacekeeper slaps his hand onto my shoulder and wheels me around. I take a deep breath; I can't be crying in front of the cameras. Hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, I slowly march out of the building…


	3. Chapter 3 - Train

I step on to the sleek, silver train and my jaw drops. Is all of the capitol like this? Smooth chairs are placed in clusters around mahogany tables with embroidered tablecloth; beneath my feet is a carpet that I know if I take my shoes off, my feet will drown in and the whole carriage is lit up with an extravagant light that glimmers and tinkles. Urgius smiles at our open mouths, "Now, this is the dining car. Your bedrooms are to the right, Charlie and I have rooms to the left. You've an hour to freshen up before dinner." She flashes a final smile before sauntering off to her room.

"You heard the lady, make the most of your time here." Charlie says, hobbling over to the nearest chair, clutching his crutch for dear life. He's only 37 and you wouldn't think otherwise if it wasn't for his Games wound. I've never seen the scar, but people say it an inch thick and goes from his heel to his hip. A permanent reminder of what the capitol did to him.

I take his advice and go into my room where I find a clean set of clothes laid out on the bed and a full bath. I slowly pull off my clothes, taking care to fold them up and put them in a pile with my sentimental earrings and new carved necklace on top. Someone will know that these are to be my district token. I wonder if Jeffrey has a token, but I doubt it so make a note to find him one.

At first I am hesitant to get into the water; the tub seems so deep and no-one would be able to hear me if I drowned. But a yawn spreads over my face and I just want to get this over with: the train, the chariots, the training, the games themselves. As I slip my leg into the still water, the heat prickles my skin and it turns lobster pink. It starts out uncomfortable, but as I get used to it the warmth becomes pleasant. I put in my other leg and clutch the side of the bath for support, before fully entering the water. I lie back on one end of the tub and instantly want to fall asleep, but force myself to scrub clean. A decorated clock ticks softly, telling me that I only have 15 minutes 'til dinner, so I dry off and put on a simple pair of trousers and top. I make my way back to the dining car where Urgius sits in a new outfit, complete with sea-blue wig and sunset-orange lips. She is lightly applying powder to her eye-lids as I take the seat opposite her.

"How are you finding it dear?" She asks, not even glancing away from the compact mirror in her hand. I decide to play it sweet

"Oh, I _love _it. It's so much nicer that what we have at home!"

"Isn't it just," she nods. She closes a small silver case and places it in her bag, which is slung over the back of her chair.

The doors make a whoosh noise as they open and close, letting Jeffrey and Charlie in, enthralled in conversation.

"But if I don't _cook_ a rabbit I could die from food-poisoning!"

"Well, what's the alternative?"

"Light a fire!"

"Oh, that's a great way to show the careers where you are –"

"I'm sorry, what sounds better: Jeffrey Sherled - killed by sword, or, Jeffrey Sherled - killed by rabbit!"

"What about: Jeffrey Sherled – victor?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to win if I don't eat. It's the _hunger _games,"

"That's if you're lucky enough to catch a rabbit." I intervene. They stare at me like I'm some green alien. "I mean, you might just get a squirrel, but a knife can only be so accurate. You'll probably have half the meat covered in blood, so once you've skinned and cleaned it you'll barely have a snack. Of course, that's if you can even get any weapons, and I don't know how good you are with them …" I trail off, as even Urgius has started looking at me oddly. Finally, Charie breaks the silence,

"That's a good point, I mean, how were you planning on catching a squirrel?"

"Well, I've used a bow a few times and I'm not too bad at snares either. But if I really want to win, I'll need an axe. With one of them I might actually have a chance." Jeffrey chuckles.

"Same here, though I'm not too bad with knives either." I add.

"Well, at least you two might actually make it past the first day, if you get any weapons, that is." Charlie mumbles, lowering himself into a chair. Jeffrey offers to help by tucking him in, but is pushed away.

Before we can start another conversation two girls in red suits lay the table with what seems like endless plates of food. When they finally finish, I say a quiet "Thank you," to which they just bow their heads. Once they've left I give a puzzled look to Charlie. "Avoxes," he whispers, "they've committed a terrible crime, and so have to serve the capitol."

"But why didn't they speak?"

"They can't, their tongues have been cut out."

My eyes open wide with a look of dread. "That's…" I start, but then see Jeffrey's alarmed face and remember that this train is probably bugged, "An unusual method of punishment." His face relaxes and we start to eat.

I cram as much food into my body as quickly as I can as I know that in about 20 minutes my brain will register that I am full. I try to steer clear of rich foods, but sometimes they are too tempting: pieces of chicken coated in a creamy, peanut sauce, a lamb stew with little plums and for dessert, a cake that is so sweet yet bitter I can't resist three slices.

"Just be careful, chocolate will make the pounds pile on!" Urgius warns.

"Choc-o-late," I repeat the new word, putting another fork-full in my mouth. Jeffrey seems to have the same idea as me, cramming everything he can into his mouth. Dribbles of conversation sometimes occur between Charlie and Urgius, but as Jeffrey and I always have our mouths full, they die out quickly. Eventually, I cannot take any more food (I've already had to unbutton my trousers) so I lean back and try to relax. Jeffrey soon does the same, and the avoxes return to take our plates away.

* * *

Not long after dinner it's time to watch the recap of the reapings. I begin to wish I hadn't eaten that last slice of chocolate cake as it threatens to make a reappearance. We all crowd round the huge t.v that nearly covers the whole wall of the television compartment. As I take my place on a soft sofa, I feel Jeffrey hold my hand; for some reason I don't mind. The seal of Panem glows on the screen whilst the anthem plays. It's soon replaced by our host Theodore Pattyman, who welcomes us to watch this year's reapings. I try to swallow the lump that has started to settle in my throat, but I can't until Jeffrey squeezes my hand. I reply by squeezing his back.

We're given a little introduction and then the screen shows what must be district one's reaping. Their escort looks fancier than Urgius (if that's even possible), but I keep that thought to myself as she reads out a name. Before her lips have finished forming the last letter a girl is on stage as a volunteer. She's beautiful, there's no doubt about that. A sheet of dark brown hair falls to her waist and two deep brown eyes are keeping the gaze of everybody in Panem. She gives her name as Fiona Nighting-Gale before the boy is called out. Yet again, it's a volunteer. He's tall and musceley, but has a long scar across his right cheek. I miss his name as we go to district two where, yet again, the escort is fancier. The girl is a typical career: volunteer, tall, strong, menacing. But the boy is reaped right out of the 14 year old section. He's over-weight and doesn't have any looks. This makes me worry what it is that makes everyone else not want to volunteer.

District three has two 12 year olds. It' sad, but I have to look at it from a survival perspective. The district four female is reaped, a seventeen year old tall piece of muscle, and then an 18 year old male volunteers. The tributes from five and six don't look too bad (the 6 female is another beauty), and then it's onto us. My name is called and I pause for a second while the camera finds my face. I quickly compose myself and begin to strut up to the stage when Mandy shrieks out. It shows me pulling her back and rushing up to the stage. Jeffrey looks better. He is so calm, graceful yet still menacing. We shake hands and then it moves on to the next district.

I let out a deep breath, not realizing that I had been holding it in. The other tributes aren't that interesting apart from a set of twins from nine and 16 year old girl from 12. Then there's the girl from 8 – a 13 year old volunteer. She's very small and I wouldn't pay her much attention if it wasn't for the guards who had to escort her up to the stage in chains. The camera caught a flash of her eyes and I saw how empty yet full of hate they were.

"A psycho," Charlie muttered, "haven't had one of them in a few years. You better watch out."

* * *

I go to bed straight after the reapings, but soon hear a knock at my door.

"Come in," I mumble, guessing it will be Urgius informing me of tomorrows wake up times. I'm pleasantly surprised when Jeffrey slides in.

"How you doing?" he asks while I sit up in my sheets.

It takes me a second to find the right word "coping. You?"

"Coping. Coping with the fact that I may never see district seven again, coping with my imminent death, coping with never being able to say…"

"To say?"

"To say something important to someone important."

"You didn't tell them in the justice building?"

"I didn't have time."

"I know, there's so much more _I_ wanted to tell _my_ family too." I said, suddenly knowing exactly what advise I should have given, what I should have told my parents.

"It wasn't my family." He said solemnly, as if giving me a clue.

I blushed with the sudden realisation "Your girlfriend?" Someone like him would definitely have one, or at least a crush. I begin to feel guilty about the hand holding earlier.

"I wish. Goodnight." He blew me a small kiss before shutting the door.


	4. Chapter 4

I wake up the next morning coated in sweat from the nightmares before. The crazy girl from district eight had been experimenting with dissection on my living body. What's worse is that everyone else had been watching, including people back from district seven.

I lay in the huge, soft bed for a while, trying to prepare myself for the day ahead. Today will be the parade, and I just hope that our stylist is better than the ones from previous years; trees are not something that stays on the mind of sponsors. But then again, I guess a tree is better than last year, when the tributes from district twelve were dressed in a sprinkling of coal dust.

Eventually Urgius knocks on my door, reminding me how important today will be. I walk lazily into the bathroom, rubbing my eyes as I step into a glass box. I experiment by pressing buttons, and am answered by a rush of freezing cold water and a stream of huge purple bubbles that turn my skin a violet colour. I press random buttons until there is just a gentle jet of warm water. I take care to get clean, but make sure my head stays dry, especially my eyes. After that I get dressed into a pair of plain, black trousers and a grey top. Then I stroll out of my room to the breakfast table. I sit down opposite Urgius and begin to fill up on food. A few minutes later the door makes a whooshing noise as Jeffrey walks in. He gives me a nod before sitting next to me, and I suddenly remember what he had said last night; it still puzzled me. As he starts to eat he offers to take my hand under the table. I hesitate for a second, feeling guilty, but then I remember how he doesn't actually have a girlfriend yet, even if he wishes he has one. I graciously let him take my hand, his fingers massaging the tension out of mine.

Charlie enters soon after Jeffrey and takes the seat next to Urgius.

"So," he says after a while, mouth full of half chewed toast, pointing a buttered knife across at us, "today we have the parades. This is one of the first times that Panem will see you, so it's got to count."

We continue with breakfast, making light conversation, until Urgius leaves to change.

Quickly, as if he's been waiting for a long time for some privacy, Charlie leans right over the table and begins talking in a low whisper very fast.

"Remember: everywhere is bugged, from now on you have no privacy at all until death. No one will pay much attention to you but don't say anything against the Capitol. Just go along with this and don't cause any trouble, the sponsors like tributes who feel grateful for having this opportunity."

And then, before Jeffrey or I can speak at all, Charlie leans back, holding the pot of honey I had been using. To anyone except us three it would look like that had been his only goal. I guess that's what our true feelings are going to have to be like, hidden by a distraction that goes along with what the Capitol wants. It's sick, but I can't let that show.

We continue with mindless chit chat until after breakfast. I make my way back to my room, but then Urgius appears and informs me that we will be arriving in a few minutes.

I let out a deep breath as I feel tears starting to swell in my eyes; suddenly this has become very real. Forcing on a smile, I push the tears down and go back to the dining room. I join Jeffrey, who is already at the window, and start to wave at the waiting Capitol people. They reply by screaming and shrieking at us, excitable as children.

We are led past them and off the train; peacekeepers have to hold back the cheering crowds. Eventually we are led into the remake centre, where we will see our stylist.

First I meet my prep team, who seem innocent enough until they start ripping my hair out. They wash me, dry me, and coat me in products that I can't even name. They chat to each other about unimportant things; parties, clothes, hair; until I ask them about my stylist.

One of them looks a little sheepish, as if he can't say what he wants to, which finally gives me the opportunity to sympathise with them. "Your stylist is very… interesting. He likes to… experiment."

I feel as if the word "interesting" and "experiment" should be replaced with "crazy" and "embarrass the whole of district seven in front of all of Panem", but I don't complain. Once I am "camera ready" my prep team leave and I am left alone on the table. After a few minutes my stylist comes in and I have to hide my dread. He is very short and thin, with long red hair that trails behind him in a sleek wave on the floor. His skin is dyed a bright, sickly yellow and he wears a sharp orange suit. Over-sized black glasses perch on the very tip of his pointed nose, failing to compensate for his tiny features.

"Hello!" he shrieks in a high-pitched, camp squeal. "Darling, I'm your stylist! Yay!" he twirls and holds my hand, "You're Willow yes? And I'm Flaime, spelt "ie" because I'm just so unique!"

I just can't get over how eccentric, loud and high-pitched he is.

"Now, let me get your measurements and we'll see what we can do!" he whips a tape measure around me, mumbling random numbers that mean absolutely nothing to me. He trots off for a while and a table pops up with some sandwiches. I'm still full from breakfast, but I decide to eat as much as I can to put on some weight. Once I'm finished Flaime enters again with my prep team and a bag that I think must contain my outfit. Flaime ushers me to a seat, and I begin to worry at my prep teams pitied glances.

"So, this costume will represent your district, yes?" Flaime smiles.

"Yes," I murmur slowly, giving a small nod.

"And district seven has trees?"

I reply with another unsure nod, confused as to where this is going.

"And what comes from trees?" Flaime looks fit to burst with excitement.

"Wood and fruit." I answer cautiously.

"And…" he encourages, gesturing with his hands.

"Oxygen, nuts, leaves –"

"Yes! Leaves!" he jumps up, clapping.

My puzzled face forces him to continue.

"Well, leaves have never been done before, so I figured I would be the first!" he gives an uncontrolled giggle that doesn't sound completely sane to me. I think I understand him. Leaves could be woven into some sort of dress, and at least that would be better than a tree costume.

I'm feeling optimistic when Flaime asks me to put on a blindfold. He says he wants my costume to be as surprising as it is for everyone else as it is for me. I accept, though it feels odd when their cold hands start touching me. I am expecting to have a dress placed over my head, to be asked to step into shoes, but I am marched out of the room feeling very light, still blindfolded. My arms are held away from me so I can even feel the costume. We finally step onto a cold metal surface instead of a carpeted one, and I am told it is the lift that will take us down to the chariots. I hear more voices, Jeffrey's voice.

"Jeffrey, is that you?" I ask.

"Yes, is that Willow?" he speaks.

"Yep. Are you wearing a blindfold too?"

"Yes. Can I take it off yet?"

Flaime finally sighs and says "Go ahead."

My hands are released and I rip off my blindfold. I am in shock. Flaime had been right about the whole leaf thing.

I remember at lower school we had had a few lessons on ancient history, and one of them was about beliefs. Apparently, people had once believed in something more than just our world, they had a thing called "religion". There were many different ones and I could never remember them all. But now, suddenly I see one picture of what one religion believed the first two people ever looked like. It was a beautiful painting, but being only ten we had all laughed at the fact that the people only had a couple of leaves covering themselves. Adam and Eve I think they were called.

I glance down at mine and Jeffrey's outfits. It's as if Flaime had that exact picture in mind, well, at least their outfits. Because all we are wearing are a few leaves covering our most embarrassing places. Jeffrey is almost as shocked as me. He looks, mouth-open so wide you could fit your whole fist in it, at himself, studying his atrocious outfit. As his gaze turns to me, checking that he isn't the only one who has to suffer this, I blush a little, but then he quickly turns away. At least he wants to leave me some of my dignity. Before either of us can protest, the lift doors open and Flaime pushes us out. I turn to see him looking deeply at us as the doors slide shut. There's nothing we can do.

I take a look at the chariot room and realise that it is empty apart from the horses, Jeffrey and I. We stroll to our chariot and I can tell that this is probably far more awkward for him than it is for me. I feel so self-conscious, so naked, but I'm worried that if I try to move any of the leaves they will fall off. I recognise that the leaves aren't actually from a tree, they are clovers, which makes it worse as at least the leaves from a tree might be a little bigger. I am surprised that I don't even have any jewellery or glitter. Then at least the whole of Panem wouldn't see my real body, they would see a fake layer of it. But along with my family, my future, my innocence and my pride these games have also already ridded me of my dignity. Just as I think this can't get any worse, I hear the whir of lift doors opening, and the tributes from one, two, three and four all enter at the same time. They are deep in conversation but stop abruptly to look at us. A couple of the boys wolf whistle and wink, as do the girls. I feel my face reddening in shame. I hope that they will pick up their conversation, but there are no adults around, so they wonder over to us.

"Hey," smirks one of the boys. I can tell he's from district one as he is wearing a golden suit that throws the light everywhere. He advances until we are only a few inches apart. "Nice costume. Is this what you wear in district seven?" he chuckles and the boy from district four struts over as well. He wears an all in one thing made of blue silk with a silver net as a cape.

"Do you want to feel my costume?" he asks, offering an arm of the silk I shake my head, giving him the evils and keeping my mouth it a tight line. "Can I feel yours?" he laughs, raising his eyebrow as he stretches his arm out further. I bat it away quickly and step back. Jeffrey is receiving the same embarrassment from the career girls; their high-pitch giggling annoys me more than it should. He turns around to face me, and makes sure his eyes stay on my face as he begins to involve me in a conversation. We plan what we are going to do to Flaime and Jeffrey's stylist Iciana once this is over. It's actually quite fun. He suggests hanging them above an acid tank filled with Capitol mutation sharks, but I say that before that they should both have to do what we are doing.

"I honestly doubt that they'd mind." Jeffrey admits. This must be easier for him as I can see from the corner of my eye that he has tight, impressive stomach muscles. Sponsors will be falling at his feet to sponsor him, whereas I won't receive that as payment for this embarrassment. I feel sorrier for last year's district twelve now, but at least they had dark coal dust, at least they were covered slightly.

The room begins to get fuller and fuller, but the attention doesn't subside from Jeffrey and I. Eventually the escorts and mentors arrive, and I can already feel Charlie's anger burning through the crowd.

"What is this?" he spits, rage exploding from his eyes.

I open my mouth but am glad when Jeffrey butts in as I had nothing to say anyway. "This is leaves. Apparently it's never been done before." He explains.

"Oh, I'll tell you what this is. This is discrimination! How do they expect this to help you? How will you ever recover from this? And me! I'll be the laughing stock of Panem!" Urgius weeps, flailing her arms to exaggerate her words.

"Oh, shut up!" snaps Charlie. "We need to think of a way to make this work for you."

"But how?" I ask, knowing that we don't have long until the parade.

Charlie pauses for a moment, in deep thought. "Make the crowd love you." He must notice our puzzled faces, so he continues, "Jeffrey, flex your muscles a bit. Willow, puff out your chest. Both of you: wave, blow kisses, do whatever you can to make yourself attractive. You need to be remembered as the brave, beautiful pair from district seven, not the two unfortunate tributes. Make it seem like these costumes were your choice, you wanted them, you're proud of them and they are the best thing that ever happened to you."

I am stunned by his words and I can tell Jeffrey is too. I completely disagree with the image he wants us to be portrayed as, but I know we have no choice, and I need to show Charlie my trust.

We step into the chariot and I am nervous at how wobbly it is. I feel envious at the girl from district eight, the psycho, who has been chained to her chariot. At least she won't fall out.

The grand doors open and the chariots start to wheel out in order. Jeffrey turns to me, offering me his hand yet again. I take it, thankful for some support. As we move out into the city circle I feel the crowd go silent at our attire. I take Charlie's advice and start to smile and wave at the crowd. For blow kisses I receive wolf whistles. For holding up my hand, still held in Jeffrey's, we receive roses, one of which I catch and put in my mouth.

The other tributes who had sniggered at us earlier are now jealous of our attention.

The twenty minute parade flies by, and by the end some people are actually chanting "DISTRICT 7!"

Our chariots reach the city circle and President Snow silences the crowd. I don't know how old he is, but there are a few grey hairs starting to appear amongst the brown ones.

"Welcome tributes. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!"

It's the same as every year, yet the crowd still goes wild with excitement. The chariots begin to move again, into the training centre, what will be our home for the next few days. Home. Prison.

Once two ornate doors have closed behind us I remove the rose from my mouth and take a deep sigh of relief. I feel Jeffrey relax next to me too. He steps down from our chariot and offers a hand out to help me down, which I take. All the mentors, escorts and stylists are here along with their prep teams.

"Darlings, you were great! See, now no-one will forget you." Flaime shrieks immediately. He pauses, "Aren't you going to thank me?"

"Yeah, thanks so much for that." Mutters Jeffrey sarcastically. Flaime, Iciana and the prep teams finally leave and we are allowed to go up to our rooms. I try to get a lift alone or with just Jeffrey, but the careers from earlier manage to hold the doors open for long enough to all squeeze in. This results in an uncomfortable journey squished between the boys from one and four. I make sure that we go to the seventh floor first and Jeffrey and I go into the empty suite.

I am shocked at how something could be even grander than the train, but it is. There is a large dining area laid out with chairs and a table, an area filled with sofas and chairs and then several corridors leading off to other rooms. We stand by the entrance, too nervous to enter, waiting for Urgius to grant us permission to enter. Yet for some reason it isn't awkward. I glance at Jeffrey to see him already facing me. He blushed quickly "I, I wasn't looking."

"I know you weren't," I reply, and it's honest.

There is a mechanical whir behind us as the lift doors open and soon Urgius and Charlie are at our sides. "Well done, you actually weren't too bad," Charlie congratulates us.

"Yes, well done. Now, that corridor leads to your rooms," Urgius gestures to the nearest corridor, "Dinner will be in half an hour." She pauses for a second "And don't worry, there will be plenty of clothes in your rooms."

As soon as we are dismissed I head straight to my room to get a quick shower and then changed. My arms ache from waving and my cheeks twitch from all the smiling. I start to brush my hair when I hear Jeffrey knock on my door and call that dinner is now. Carefully placing the brush down, I take a quick glance at a wall length mirror and then go out to dinner, the lights automatically switching off behind me.

We're halfway through the meal when Charlie begins to talk about tomorrow. "Now, you both said that you were good with axes and possibly some other weapons as well, yeah?" we nod in agreement, "So usually I'd say keep that a secret, but you two both come from seven, so everyone will know that you can use an axe. This means you have a choice of options." He waits for a nod of understanding before continuing,

"Option one. You just get on with your own thing. If you can use knives, snares or a bow, make sure that _that_ stays a secret, but otherwise feel free to practice with an axe. The only problem with that plan is what to portray you as in the interviews. Quiet doesn't get remembered."

I think that through in my head, liking the idea. But then what good are likes and dislikes when it comes to survival?

"Option two. You act like careers. You train together and brag about all of your powers. You pick out the easy targets. You've already had a head start with your costumes, that was really good, and for the interviews we could do something similar. The problems with that are whether you would join the other careers." Charlie slouches back in his chair, allowing us to talk, but neither of us can form an opinion.

"I'll let you sleep on it. Just make sure you do the survival stations; it's amazing how many tributes are stupid and think that they are better than basic survival. Even if you had all the supplies, you'd still need bush craft." Jeffrey and I both mumble in agreement. Charlie opens his mouth to say more, but suddenly closes it again, shaking his head slightly.

We are excused from dinner and I go back to my room to get changed into some pajamas. I settle down into my bed and find a control panel next to me. There are various pictures next to bars. I find the picture of a light-bulb and pull the bar down slightly, dimming the lights. I know I need the sleep, and I am exhausted after such a long day, but I can't seem to stop thinking. It takes me a good hour before darkness covers me and I am once again entrapped in the nightmares that will be my future.

* * *

**Well, that was quite long. I feel as if I should have cut some of that out, so sorry that I didn't. Please review because I haven't had one on this story yet and whenever I get a review I go really crazy happy because it means someone actually reads my work! I will try to update this soon, bye! PS. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FOLLOWING! you know who you are**


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